CHAPTER V. THE IROQUOIS TOWN
Henry lay fully an hour in the bushes. He had forgotten about the dogsthat he dreaded, but evidently he was right in his surmise that thecamp contained none. Nothing disturbed him while he stared at what waspassing by the firelight. There could be no doubt that the meeting ofTimmendiquas and Thayendanegea portended great things, but he would notbe stirred from his task of rescuing his comrades or discovering theirfate.
They two, great chiefs, sat long in close converse. Others-older men,chiefs, also-came at times and talked with them. But these two, proud,dominating, both singularly handsome men of the Indian type, were alwaysthere. Henry was almost ready to steal away when he saw a new figureapproaching the two chiefs. The walk and bearing of the stranger werefamiliar, and HENRY knew him even before his face was lighted tip bythe fire. It was Braxton Wyatt, the renegade, who had escaped the greatbattles on both the Ohio and the Mississippi, and who was here with theIroquois, ready to do to his own race all the evil that he could. Henryfelt a shudder of repulsion, deeper than any Indian could inspire inhim. They fought for their own land and their own people, but BraxtonWyatt had violated everything that an honest man should hold sacred.
Henry, on the whole, was not surprised to see him. Such a chance wassure to draw Braxton Wyatt. Moreover, the war, so far as it pertained tothe border, seemed to be sweeping toward the northeast, and it bore manystormy petrels upon its crest.
He watched Wyatt as he walked toward one of the fires. There therenegade sat down and talked with the warriors, apparently on the bestof terms. He was presently joined by two more renegades, whom Henryrecognized as Blackstaffe and Quarles. Timmendiquas and Thayendanegearose after a while, and walked toward the center of the camp, whereseveral of the bark shelters had been enclosed entirely. Henry judgedthat one had been set apart for each, but they were lost from his viewwhen they passed within the circling ring of warriors.
Henry believed that the Iroquois and Wyandots would form a fortifiedcamp here, a place from which they would make sudden and terrible foraysupon the settlements. He based his opinion upon the good location andthe great number of saplings that had been cut down already. They wouldbuild strong lodges and then a palisade around them with the saplings.He was speedily confirmed in this opinion when he saw warriors come tothe forest with hatchets and begin to cut down more saplings. He knewthen that it was time to go, as a wood chopper might blunder upon him atany time.
He slipped from his covert and was quickly gone in the forest. His limbswere somewhat stiff from lying so long in one position, but that soonwore away, and he was comparatively fresh when he came once more to theislet in the swamp. A good moon was now shining, tipping the forest witha fine silvery gray, and Henry purveyed with the greatest satisfactionthe simple little shelter that he had found so opportunely. It was agood house, too, good to such a son of the deepest forest as was Henry.It was made of nothing but bark and poles, but it had kept out allthat long, penetrating rain of the last three or four days, and when helifted the big stone aside and opened the door it seemed as snug a placeas he could have wished.
He left the door open a little, lighted a small fire on the flat stones,having no fear that it would be seen through the dense curtain that shuthim in, and broiled big bear steaks on the coals. When he had eatenand the fire had died he went out and sat beside the hut. He was wellsatisfied with the day's work, and he wished now to think with allthe concentration that one must put upon a great task if he expects toachieve it. He intended to invade the Indian camp, and he knew full wellthat it was the most perilous enterprise that he had ever attempted.Yet scouts and hunters had done such things and had escaped with theirlives. He must not shrink from the path that others had trodden.
He made up his mind firmly, and partly thought out his plan ofoperations. Then he rested, and so sanguine was his temperament that hebegan to regard the deed itself as almost achieved. Decision is alwayssoothing after doubt, and he fell into a pleasant dreamy state. A gentlewind was blowing, the forest was dry and the leaves rustled with the lownote that is like the softest chord of a violin. It became penetrating,thrillingly sweet, and hark! it spoke to him in a voice that he knew.It was the same voice that he had heard on the Ohio, mystic, but tellinghim to be of heart and courage. He would triumph over hardships anddangers, and he would see his friends again.
Henry started up from his vision. The song was gone, and he heard onlythe wind softly moving the leaves. It had been vague and shadowy asgossamer, light as the substance of a dream, but it was real to him,nevertheless, and the deep glow of certain triumph permeated his being,body and mind. It was not strange that he had in his nature somethingof the Indian mysticism that personified the winds and the treesand everything about him. The Manitou of the red man and the ancientAieroski of the Iroquois were the same as his own God. He could notdoubt that he had a message. Down on the Ohio he had had the samemessage more than once, and it had always come true.
He heard a slight rustling among the bushes, and, sitting perfectlystill, he saw a black bear emerge into the open. It had gained the isletin some manner, probably floundering through the black mire, and thethought occurred to him that it was the mate of the one he had slain,drawn perhaps by instinct on the trail of a lost comrade. He couldhave shot the bear as he sat-and he would need fresh supplies of foodsoon-but he did not have the heart to do it.
The bear sniffed a little at the wind, which was blowing the human odoraway from him, and sat back on his haunches. Henry did not believe thatthe animal had seen him or was yet aware of his presence, although hemight suspect. There was something humorous and also pathetic in thevisitor, who cocked his head on one side and looked about him. He madea distinct appeal to Henry, who sat absolutely still, so still thatthe little bear could not be sure at first that he was a human being.A minute passed, and the red eye of the bear rested upon the boy. Henryfelt pleasant and sociable, but he knew that he could retain friendlyrelations only by remaining quiet.
"If I have eaten your comrade, my friend," he said to himself, "it isonly because of hard necessity." The bear, little, comic, and yet withthat touch of pathos about him, cocked his head a little further over onone side, and as a silver shaft of moonlight fell upon him Henry couldsee one red eye gleaming. It was a singular fact, but the boy, alonein the wilderness, and the loser of his comrades, felt for the moment asense of comradeship with the bear, which was also alone, and doubtlessthe loser of a comrade, also. He uttered a soft growling sound like thesatisfied purr of a bear eating its food.
The comical bear rose a little higher on his hind paws, and looked inastonishment at the motionless figure that uttered sounds so familiar.Yet the figure was not familiar. He had never seen a human being before,and the shape and outline were very strange to him. It might be some newkind of animal, and he was disposed to be inquiring, because there wasnothing in these forests which the black bear was afraid of until mancame.
He advanced a step or two and growled gently. Then he reared up againon his hind paws, and cocked his held to one side in his amusing manner.Henry, still motionless, smiled at him. Here, for an instant at least,was a cheery visitor and companionship. He at least would not break thespell.
"You look almost as if you could talk, old fellow," he said to himself,"and if I knew your language I'd ask you a lot of questions."
The bear, too, was motionless now, torn by doubt and curiosity. Itcertainly was a singular figure that sat there, fifteen or twenty yardsbefore him, and he had the most intense curiosity to solve the mysteryof this creature. But caution held him back.
There was a sudden flaw in the light breeze. It shifted about andbrought the dreadful man odor to the nostrils of the honest black bear.It was something entirely new to him, but it contained the quality offear. That still strange figure was his deadliest foe. Dropping downupon his four paws, he fled among the trees, and then scrambled somehowthrough the swamp to the mainland.
Henry sighed. Despite his own friendly feeling, the be
ar, warned byinstinct, was afraid of him, and, as he was bound to acknowledge tohimself, the bear's instinct was doubtless right. He rose, went intothe hut, and slept heavily through the night. In the morning he leftthe islet once more to scout in the direction of the Indian camp, but hefound it a most dangerous task. The woods were full of warriors hunting.As he had judged, the game was abundant, and he heard rifles crackingin several directions. He loitered, therefore, in the thickest of thethickets, willing to wait until night came for his enterprise. It wasadvisable, moreover, to wait, because he did not see yet just how he wasgoing to succeed. He spent nearly the whole day shifting here and therethrough the forest, but late in the afternoon, as the Indians yet seemedso numerous in the woods, he concluded to go back toward the islet.
He was about two miles from the swamp when he heard a cry, sharp butdistant. It was that of the savages, and Henry instinctively divined thecause. A party of the warriors had come somehow upon his trail, and theywould surely follow it. It was a mischance that he had not expected.He waited a minute or two, and then heard the cry again, but nearer.He knew that it would come no more, but it confirmed him in his firstopinion.
Henry had little fear of being caught, as the islet was so securelyhidden, but he did not wish to take even a remote chance of itsdiscovery. Hence he ran to the eastward of it, intending as the darknesscame, hiding his trail, to double back and regain the hut.
He proceeded at a long, easy gait, his mind not troubled by the pursuit.It was to him merely an incident that should be ended as soon aspossible, annoying perhaps, but easily cured. So he swung lightly along,stopping at intervals among the bushes to see if any of the warriors haddrawn near, but he detected nothing. Now and then he looked up to thesky, willing that night should end this matter quickly and peacefully.
His wish seemed near fulfillment. An uncommonly brilliant sun wassetting. The whole west was a sea of red and yellow fire, but in theeast the forest was already sinking into the dark. He turned now, andwent back toward the west on a line parallel with the pursuit, but muchcloser to the swamp. The dusk thickened rapidly. The sun dropped overthe curve of the world, and the vast complex maze of trunks and boughsmelted into a solid black wall. The incident of the pursuit was over andwith it its petty annoyances. He directed his course boldly now for thestepping stones, and traveled fast. Soon the first of them would be lessthan a hundred yards away.
But the incident was not over. Wary and skillful though the young forestrunner might be, he had made one miscalculation, and it led to greatconsequences. As he skirted the edge of the swamp in the darkness, nowfully come, a dusky figure suddenly appeared. It was a stray warriorfrom some small band, wandering about at will. The meeting was probablyas little expected by him as it was by Henry, and they were so closetogether when they saw each other that neither had time to raise hisrifle. The warrior, a tall, powerful man, dropping his gun and snatchingout a knife, sprang at once upon his enemy.
Henry was borne back by the weight and impact, but, making an immenseeffort, he recovered himself and, seizing the wrist of the Indian'sknife hand, exerted all his great strength. The warrior wished to changethe weapon from his right band, but he dared not let go with the otherlest he be thrown down at once, and with great violence. His firstrush having failed, he was now at a disadvantage, as the Indian is notgenerally a wrestler. Henry pushed him back, and his hand closed tighterand tighter around the red wrist. He wished to tear the knife from it,but he, too, was afraid to let go with the other hand, and so the tworemained locked fast. Neither uttered a cry after the first contact, andthe only sounds in the dark were their hard breathing, which turned to agasp now and then, and the shuffle of their feet over the earth.
Henry felt that it must end soon. One or the other must give way. Theirsinews were already strained to the cracking point, and making a supremeeffort he bore all his weight upon the warrior, who, unable to sustainhimself, went down with the youth upon him. The Indian uttered a groan,and Henry, leaping instantly to his feet, looked down upon his fallenantagonist, who did not stir. He knew the cause. As they fell the pointof the knife bad been turned upward, and it had entered the Indian'sheart.
Although he had been in peril at his hands, Henry looked at the slainman in a sort of pity. He had not wished to take anyone's life, and, inreality, he had not been the direct cause of it. But it was a stern timeand the feeling soon passed. The Wyandot, for such he was by his paint,would never have felt a particle of remorse had the victory been his.
The moon was now coming out, and Henry looked down thoughtfully at thestill face. Then the idea came to him, in fact leaped up in his brain,with such an impulse that it carried conviction. He would take thiswarrior's place and go to the Indian camp. So eager was he, and sofull of his plan, that he did not feel any repulsion as he opened thewarrior's deerskin shirt and took his totem from a place near his heart.It was a little deerskin bag containing a bunch of red feathers. Thiswas his charm, his magic spell, his bringer of good luck, which hadfailed him so woefully this time. Henry, not without a touch of theforest belief, put it inside his own hunting shirt, wishing, althoughhe laughed at himself, that if the red man's medicine had any potency itshould be on his own side.
Then he found also the little bag in which the Indian carried his warpaint and the feather brush with which he put it on. The next hourwitnessed a singular transformation. A white youth was turned into a redwarrior. He cut his own hair closely, all except a tuft in the center,with his sharp hunting knife. The tuft and the close crop he stainedblack with the Indian's paint. It was a poor black, but he hoped thatit would pass in the night. He drew the tuft into a scalplock, andintertwined it with a feather from the Indian's own tuft. Then hestained his face, neck, hands, and arms with the red paint, and stoodforth a powerful young warrior of a western nation.
He hid the Indian's weapons and his own raccoon-skin cap in the brush.Then he took the body of the fallen warrior to the edge of the swamp anddropped it in. His object was not alone concealment, but burial as well.He still felt sorry for the unfortunate Wyandot, and he watched himuntil he sank completely from sight in the mire. Then he turned away andtraveled a straight course toward the great Indian camp.
He stopped once on the way at a clear pool irradiated by the brightmoonlight, and looked attentively at his reflection. By night, at least,it was certainly that of an Indian, and, summoning all his confidence,he continued upon his chosen and desperate task.
Henry knew that the chances were against him, even with his disguise,but he was bound to enter the Indian camp, and he was prepared to incurall risks and to endure all penalties. He even felt a certain lightnessof heart as he hurried on his way, and at length saw through the forestthe flare of light from the Indian camp.
He approached cautiously at first in order that he might take a goodlook into the camp, and he was surprised at what he saw. In a singleday the village had been enlarged much more. It seemed to him that itcontained at least twice as many warriors. Women and children, too, hadcome, and he heard a stray dog barking here and there. Many more firesthan usual were burning, and there was a great murmur of voices.
Henry was much taken aback at first. It seemed that he was about toplunge into the midst of the whole Iroquois nation, and at a time,too, when something of extreme importance was going on, but a littlereflection showed that he was fortunate. Amid so many people, and somuch ferment it was not at all likely that he would be noticed closely.It was his intention, if the necessity came, to pass himself off as awarrior of the Shawnee tribe who had wandered far eastward, but he meantto avoid sedulously the eye of Timmendiquas, who might, through his sizeand stature, divine his identity.
As Henry lingered at the edge of the camp, in indecision whether to waita little or plunge boldly into the light of the fires, he became awarethat all sounds in the village-for such it was instead of a camp-hadceased suddenly, except the light tread of feet and the sound of manypeople talking low. He saw through the bushes that all the Iroquois, andwith th
em the detachment of Wyandots under White Lightning, were goingtoward a large structure in the center, which he surmised to be theCouncil House. He knew from his experience with the Indians farther westthat the Iroquois built such structures.
He could no longer doubt that some ceremony of the greatest importancewas about to begin, and, dismissing indecision, he left the bushesand entered the village, going with the crowd toward the great polebuilding, which was, indeed, the Council House.
But little attention was paid to Henry. He would have drawn none at all,had it not been for his height, and when a warrior or two glanced at himhe uttered some words in Shawnee, saying that he had wandered far,and was glad to come to the hospitable Iroquois. One who could speaka little Shawnee bade him welcome, and they went on, satisfied, theirminds more intent upon the ceremony than upon a visitor.
The Council House, built of light poles and covered with poles andthatch, was at least sixty feet long and about thirty feet wide, with alarge door on the eastern side, and one or two smaller ones on the othersides. As Henry arrived, the great chiefs and sub-chiefs of the Iroquoiswere entering the building, and about it were grouped many warriors andwomen, and even children. But all preserved a decorous solemnity, and,knowing the customs of the forest people so well, he was sure that theceremony, whatever it might be, must be of a highly sacred nature. Hehimself drew to one side, keeping as much as possible in the shadow,but he was using to its utmost power every faculty of observation thatNature had given him.
Many of the fires were still burning, but the moon had come out withgreat brightness, throwing a silver light over the whole village, andinvesting with attributes that savored of the mystic and impressivethis ceremony, held by a savage but great race here in the depths of theprimeval forest. Henry was about to witness a Condoling Council, whichwas at once a mourning for chiefs who had fallen in battle farther eastwith his own people and the election and welcome of their successors.
The chiefs presently came forth from the Council House or, as it wasmore generally called, the Long House, and, despite the greatness ofThayendanegea, those of the Onondaga tribe, in virtue of their ancientand undisputed place as the political leaders and high priests ofthe Six Nations, led the way. Among the stately Onondaga chiefs were:Atotarho (The Entangled), Skanawati (Beyond the River), Tehatkahtons(Looking Both Ways), Tehayatkwarayen (Red Wings), and Hahiron (TheScattered). They were men of stature and fine countenance, proud ofthe titular primacy that belonged to them because it was the Onondaga,Hiawatha, who had formed the great confederacy more than four hundredyears before our day, or just about the time Columbus was landing on theshores of the New World.
Next to the Onondagas came the fierce and warlike Mohawks, who livednearest to Albany, who were called Keepers of the Eastern Gate, and whowere fully worthy of their trust. They were content that the Onondagasshould lead in council, so long as they were first in battle, and therewas no jealousy between them. Among their chiefs were Koswensiroutha(Broad Shoulders) and Satekariwate (Two Things Equal).
Third in rank were the Senecas, and among their chiefs were Kanokarih(The Threatened) and Kanyadariyo (Beautiful Lake).
These three, the Onondagas, Mohawks, and Senecas, were esteemed thethree senior nations. After them, in order of precedence, camethe chiefs of the three junior nations, the Oneidas, Cayugas, andTuscaroras. All of the great chiefs had assistant chiefs, usuallyrelatives, who, in case of death, often succeeded to their places. Butthese assistants now remained in the crowd with other minor chiefs andthe mass of the warriors. A little apart stood Timmendiquas and hisWyandots. He, too, was absorbed in the ceremony so sacred to him, anIndian, and he did not notice the tall figure of the strange Shawneelingering in the deepest of the shadows.
The head chiefs, walking solemnly and never speaking, marched across theclearing, and then through the woods to a glen, where two young warriorshad kindled a little fire of sticks as a signal of welcome. The chiefsgathered around the fire and spoke together in low tones. This wasDeyuhnyon Kwarakda, which means "The Reception at the Edge of the Wood."
Henry and some others followed, as it was not forbidden to see, and hisinterest increased. He shared the spiritual feeling which was impressedupon the red faces about him. The bright moonlight, too, added to theeffect, giving it the tinge of an old Druidical ceremony.
The chiefs relapsed into silence and sat thus about ten minutes. Thenrose the sound of a chant, distant and measured, and a procession ofyoung and inferior chiefs, led by Oneidas, appeared, slowly approachingthe fire. Behind them were warriors, and behind the warriors were manywomen and children. All the women were in their brightest attire, gaywith feather headdresses and red, blue, or green blankets from theBritish posts.
The procession stopped at a distance of about a dozen yards from thechiefs about the council fire, and the Oneida, Kathlahon, formed the menin a line facing the head chiefs, with the women and children groupedin an irregular mass behind them. The singing meanwhile had stopped. Thetwo groups stood facing each other, attentive and listening.
Then Hahiron, the oldest of the Onondagas, walked back and forth in thespace between the two groups, chanting a welcome. Like all Indian songsit was monotonous. Every line he uttered with emphasis and a risinginflection, the phrase "Haih-haih" which may be translated "Hail tothee!" or better, "All hail!" Nevertheless, under the moonlight in thewilderness and with rapt faces about him, it was deeply impressive.Henry found it so.
Hahiron finished his round and went back to his place by the fire.Atotarho, head chief of the Onondagas, holding in his hands beautifullybeaded strings of Iroquois wampum, came forward and made a speech ofcondolence, to which Kathlahon responded. Then the head chiefs andthe minor chiefs smoked pipes together, after which the head chiefs,followed by the minor chiefs, and these in turn by the crowd, led theway back to the village.
Many hundreds of persons were in this procession, which was still verygrave and solemn, every one in it impressed by the sacred nature ofthis ancient rite. The chief entered the great door of the Long House,and all who could find places not reserved followed. Henry went in withthe others, and sat in a corner, making himself as small as possible.Many women, the place of whom was high among the Iroquois, were also inthe Long House.
The head chiefs sat on raised seats at the north end of the great room.In front of them, on lower seats, were the minor chiefs of the threeolder nations on the left, and of the three younger nations on theright. In front of these, but sitting on the bark floor, was a group ofwarriors. At the east end, on both high and low seats, were warriors,and facing them on the western side were women, also on both highand low seats. The southern side facing the chiefs was divided intosections, each with high and low seats. The one on the left was occupiedby men, and the one on the right by women. Two small fires burned in thecenter of the Long House about fifteen feet apart.
It was the most singular and one of the most impressive scenes thatHenry had ever beheld. When all had found their seats there was a deepsilence. Henry could hear the slight crackling made by the two fires asthey burned, and the light fell faintly across the multitude of dark,eager faces. Not less than five hundred people were in the Long House,and here was the red man at his best, the first of the wild, not thesecond or third of the civilized, a drop of whose blood in his veinsbrings to the white man now a sense of pride, and not of shame, as itdoes when that blood belongs to some other races.
The effect upon Henry was singular. He almost forgot that he was a foeamong them on a mission. For the moment he shared in their feelings, andhe waited with eagerness for whatever might come.
Thayendanegea, the Mohawk, stood up in his place among the great chiefs.The role he was about to assume belonged to Atotarho, the Onondaga,but the old Onondaga assigned it for the occasion to Thayendanegea, andthere was no objection. Thayendanegea was an educated man, he had beenin England, he was a member of a Christian church, and he had translateda part of the Bible from English into his own tongue, but now he was alla Mohawk,
a son of the forest.
He spoke to the listening crowd of the glories of the Six Nations, howHah-gweh-di-yu (The Spirit of Good) had inspired Hiawatha to form theGreat Confederacy of the Five Nations, afterwards the Six; how they hadheld their hunting grounds for nearly two centuries against both Englishand French; and how they would hold them against the Americans. Hestopped at moments, and deep murmurs of approval went through the LongHouse. The eyes of both men and women flashed as the orator spoke oftheir glory and greatness. Timmendiquas, in a place of honor, noddedapproval. If he could he would form such another league in the west.
The air in the Long House, breathed by so many, became heated. It seemedto have in it a touch of fire. The orator's words burned. Swift and deepimpressions were left upon the excited brain. The tall figure of theMohawk towered, gigantic, in the half light, and the spell that he threwover all was complete.
He spoke about half an hour, but when he stopped he did not sit down.Henry knew by the deep breath that ran through the Long House thatsomething more was coming from Thayendanegea. Suddenly the red chiefbegan to sing in a deep, vibrant voice, and this was the song that hesung:
This was the roll of you, All hail! All hail! All hail!
You that joined in the work, All hail! All hail! All hail!
You that finished the task, All hail! All hail! All hail!
The Great League, All hail! All hail! All hail!
There was the same incessant repetition of "Haih haih!" that Henry hadnoticed in the chant at the edge of the woods, but it seemed to give acumulative effect, like the roll of thunder, and at every slight pausethat deep breath of approval ran through the crowd in the Long House.The effect of the song was indescribable. Fire ran in the veins of all,men, women, and children. The great pulses in their throats leaped up.They were the mighty nation, the ever-victorious, the League of theHo-de-no-sau-nee, that had held at bay both the French and the Englishsince first a white man was seen in the land, and that would keep backthe Americans now.
Henry glanced at Timmendiquas. The nostrils of the great White Lightningwere twitching. The song reached to the very roots of his being, andaroused all his powers. Like Thayendanegea, he was a statesman, and hesaw that the Americans were far more formidable to his race thanEnglish or French had ever been. The Americans were upon the ground, andincessantly pressed upon the red man, eye to eye. Only powerful leagueslike those of the Iroquois could withstand them.
Thayendanegea sat down, and then there was another silence, a periodlasting about two minutes. These silences seemed to be a necessary partof all Iroquois rites. When it closed two young warriors stretched anelm bark rope across the room from east to west and near the ceiling,but between the high chiefs and the minor chiefs. Then they hung dressedskins all along it, until the two grades of chiefs were hidden from theview of each other. This was the sign of mourning, and was followed by asilence. The fires in the Long House had died down somewhat, and littlewas to be seen but the eyes and general outline of the people. Then aslender man of middle years, the best singer in all the Iroquois nation,arose and sang:
To the great chiefs bring we greeting, All hail! All hail! All hail!
To the dead chiefs, kindred greeting, All hail! All hail! All hail!
To the strong men 'round him greeting, All hail! All hail! All hail!
To the mourning women greeting, All hail! All hail! All hail!
There our grandsires' words repeating, All hail! All hail! All hail!
Graciously, Oh, grandsires, hear, All hail! All hail! All hail!
The singing voice was sweet, penetrating, and thrilling, and the songwas sad. At the pauses deep murmurs of sorrow ran through the crowdin the Long House. Grief for the dead held them all. When he finished,Satekariwate, the Mohawk, holding in his hands three belts of wampum,uttered a long historical chant telling of their glorious deeds, towhich they listened patiently. The chant over, he handed the belts toan attendant, who took them to Thayendanegea, who held them for a fewmoments and looked at them gravely.
One of the wampum belts was black, the sign of mourning; another waspurple, the sign of war; and the third was white, the sign of peace.They were beautiful pieces of workmanship, very old.
When Hiawatha left the Onondagas and fled to the Mohawks he crossed alake supposed to be the Oneida. While paddling along he noticed that mantiny black, purple, and white shells clung to his paddle. Reaching theshore he found such shells in long rows upon the beach, and it occurredto him to use them for the depiction of thought according to color. Hestrung them on threads of elm bark, and afterward, when the great leaguewas formed, the shells were made to represent five clasped hands. Forfour hundred years the wampum belts have been sacred among the Iroquois.
Now Thayendanegea gave the wampum belts back to the attendant, whoreturned them to Satekariwate, the Mohawk. There was a silence oncemore, and then the chosen singer began the Consoling Song again, but nowhe did not sing it alone. Two hundred male voices joined him, andthe time became faster. Its tone changed from mourning and sorrowto exultation and menace. Everyone thought of war, the tomahawk, andvictory. The song sung as it was now became a genuine battle song,rousing and thrilling. The Long House trembled with the mighty chorus,and its volume poured forth into the encircling dark woods.
All the time the song was going on, Satekariwate, the Mohawk, stoodholding the belts in his hand, but when it was over he gave them to anattendant, who carried them to another head chief. Thayendanegea nowwent to the center of the room and, standing between the two fires,asked who were the candidates for the places of the dead chiefs.
The dead chiefs were three, and three tall men, already chosen amongtheir own tribes, came forward to succeed them. Then a fourth came, andHenry was startled. It was Timmendiquas, who, as the bravest chief ofthe brave Wyandots, was about to become, as a signal tribute, and asa great sign of friendship, an adopted son and honorary chief of theMohawks, Keepers of the Western Gate, and most warlike of all theIroquois tribes.
As Timmendiquas stood before Thayendanegea, a murmur of approval deeperthan any that had gone before ran through all the crowd in the LongHouse, and it was deepest on the women's benches, where sat many matronsof the Iroquois, some of whom were chiefs-a woman could be a chief amongthe Iroquois.
The candidates were adjudged acceptable by the other chiefs, andThayendanegea addressed them on their duties, while they listenedin grave silence. With his address the sacred part of the rite wasconcluded. Nothing remained now but the great banquet outside--althoughthat was much--and they poured forth to it joyously, Thayendanegea, theMohawk, and Timmendiquas, the Wyandot, walking side by side, the finesttwo red chiefs on all the American continent.
The Scouts of the Valley Page 5